


be still my foolish heart

by SecondhandLovers



Series: AU: what we owe to each other [1]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, feat. brief philosophy talk that may or may not be accurate, the good place AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondhandLovers/pseuds/SecondhandLovers
Summary: Chalkboards and trolley problems and elaborate metaphors are fine, but the biggest driving factor in his change is the fact Rapunzel sees a good person in him.---or:    For Eugene, the afterlife is complicated-- luckily, he's spending it in good company.    a "The Good Place" AU.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Series: AU: what we owe to each other [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911235
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	be still my foolish heart

* * *

  


The last thing Eugene expected from the afterlife was to have to _ study. _

Well, truthfully, the last thing he expected was for there to be an afterlife at all. Let alone one as strange as this-- it isn’t the idea of heaven that he’d grown up hearing about, all fluffy clouds and harps and ethereal beings with halos and wings.

It is, simply put, a neighborhood. An idealistic one, granted-- but a neighborhood, nonetheless, with white picket fences and vibrant green grass and fancy shops serving frozen yogurt that he’s  _ certain _ would be overpriced if everything didn’t come free in the afterlife. The neighborhood is designed to meet each and every one of it’s resident’s needs, to fulfill all of their requests-- from their wildest of dreams to their simplest of pleasures.

Doing homework was definitely _ not  _ on Eugene's list of simple pleasures. 

But given the fact that he wasn’t even supposed to be  _ sent _ to the Good Place, he supposes there could be worse fates.

It could be a  _ lot  _ worse, actually, given the fact his assigned soulmate— just another one of heaven’s little perks— Rapunzel, has been nothing short of a saint. She’s the only other person who actually knows his secret, and rather than turning him in, she’s opted to _ help _ him earn his place here.

On Earth, Rapunzel had studied moral philosophy. Apparently, her entire childhood had been a lie, kidnapped as an infant only to be neglected and manipulated by the woman who’d stolen her. It was because of that manipulation that, once she gained independence, she had dedicated her life to studying the human psyche, and the morality that accompanied it. She threw herself into learning about the ethics that her youth had been so sorely deprived of. 

It’s a cruel trick, really, that she spent her life being a pinnacle of morality and kindness, and because of Eugene, she is now spending what is _ supposed  _ to be paradise lying for a man who was supposed to earn a ticket straight down to the Bad Place.

(Eugene remembers when she’d come in to meet him for the first time, her green eyes so wide and full of hope. She told him she never had a soulmate while she was alive, and promised that she’d stick by his side no matter what. Eugene remembers how that same hope in her eyes had died just a bit when he confessed that he wasn’t supposed to be here-- that the man the afterlife seemed to  _ think _ he was: a death row lawyer, an activist, an all around saint— was  _ far _ from the life he led.)

Her virtue knows no bounds, though, as she agrees to spend her time teaching him the concepts of ethics, compassion, etiquette, and so forth-- the basic principles of what different philosophers theorized it meant to be a truly  _ good _ person. 

Originally, Eugene had planned to cheat the system. To pull yet another con, to play the role that the afterlife had mistaken him for, to fool The Architect into believing that he truly belongs here. But as time goes on, he more often than not finds himself truly hoping to change for the better. For his improvement to be  _ genuine _ rather than just a  façade.

Chalkboards and trolley problems and elaborate metaphors are fine, but the biggest driving factor in his change is the fact that Rapunzel  _ sees _ a good person in him. Truly, wholeheartedly, she believes he can be better. And against all odds, she offers him the one thing he was rarely granted on Earth-- a second chance.

Eugene still thinks there should be a  _ medium _ place, for medium people. He was far from a model citizen, but he never killed or hurt anyone, (aside from breaking a few hearts, he supposes, but  _ hey, _ nobody’s perfect.) Eternal damnation seems like a pretty extreme punishment for the things he’s done-- but if life wasn’t fair, he supposes he shouldn’t have expected death to be any different.

Of course, the afterlife’s system is flawed, clearly, if they’ve mistaken him for a bleeding heart activist instead of the lowlife criminal he was. Even the neighborhood itself seems to _ glitch  _ every so often, every mistake he makes in the Good Place bearing a negative physical impact on the otherwise perfectly-sculpted utopia. 

Quite frankly, it’s a miracle the Architect hasn’t caught on to the fact  _ he _ is to blame for the disasters in the neighborhood.

It helps that Rapunzel plays along with it, though-- pretending to be his soulmate in the public eye, pretending that Eugene is the selfless person that his file says that he is, all so he won’t be discovered and exiled to the Bad Place. To further sell the town on their little ruse, Rapunzel moves in with him-- into his godforsaken house with it’s inconvenient architecture and creepy paintings and an internal temperature that always runs just a bit too cold for comfort. (He’s not sure whose file they had mistaken his with, but that person has some  _ seriously _ questionable taste.)

She teaches him moral philosophy right there in their living room, getting in front of a chalkboard and eagerly drawing examples of the different scenarios she describes, while he sits there and takes notes like he’s back in school. The lessons would be more annoying if she wasn’t so damn  _ endearing _ \-- Eugene often catches himself smiling at the way her hands gesture wildly whenever she grows passionate about a topic, or the way her nose scrunches up when he chimes in with an inappropriate joke, or the way her eyes light up with  _ pride _ when he understands the concepts she teaches him. 

As much as he’s grown to enjoy her lessons, though, it is the moments in-between that he enjoys the most. He's grown fond of the easy, lighthearted banter that weaves it's way into all of their conversations, of the way she sings to herself when she thinks he isn’t listening, of the way they sometimes forget to stop walking hand-in-hand, even once they’re out of sight of the other residents. He's grown fond of the way they orbit around each other in the house, finding an easy sort of comfort in one another's company.

Today is no exception. Eugene trudges out of his room around mid-morning, not surprised to find Rapunzel already awake. She’s curled up on the couch with a book in hand, her reading glasses nearly falling off her nose. Judging by the fact she’s still donning pajama pants and ridiculously fuzzy socks, he’s willing to bet she started reading the very moment she woke up.

“Good morning,” she calls to him, lifting her eyes away from the page only for the briefest of moments as he walks past.

“Morning, blondie. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

She shoots him a sheepish grin. “Would you believe me if I said I was  _ just _ about to?”

“You know, for someone who’s so quick to help others, you sure are awful at taking care of yourself, sometimes,” Eugene admonishes. 

She rolls her eyes, though her expression remains playful. “We’re already dead, Eugene, I’m pretty sure we don’t actually  _ need _ to eat.”

“Well, I’m making you something, anyway. I’ve got to fulfill my _ ‘ethical duties,’ _ after all.”

Rapunzel lets out a snort of amusement. “You know, I’ve never heard someone try to apply the theory of deontology to breakfast food before,” She leans her head back against the back of the sofa, peering up at him upside-down as he begins to rifle through the kitchen. “But I wouldn’t say  _ no _ to some french toast after I finish this chapter.” 

  
  


It isn't long before she turns her attention back to her book, and Eugene decides to make some coffee while she finishes reading. He prepares a mug for himself, then another with two scoops of sugar and a splash of hazelnut cream, just as she likes it. 

It strikes Eugene how very  _ domestic  _ his days have become-- sharing a space with someone else, learning all their little quirks, making breakfast for one another. He’s never had this, before. Once he aged out of foster care he had mostly lived alone, keeping the few people in his life at arm’s length. He'd never allowed himself to experience this kind of simple intimacy before. Now that he’s found it, he’s not sure he ever wants to go back.

Eugene brings her the coffee, plopping down beside her on the couch as she accepts the mug, barely looking up from the book she’s enthralled in.

“What is it you’ve got there, sunshine?”

She finally peers up at him as she takes a sip of her coffee, her eyebrow cocked in amusement. “ _Sunshine,_ huh?”

“Yeah, well. You  _ are _ the embodiment of sunshine.”

She laughs. “This is the Good Place, Eugene, I’m pretty sure everyone here is the embodiment of sunshine.”

“Nah,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, “I’m pretty sure no one else compares to you.”

Her cheeks flush pink, and she curls both hands tight around her mug, lifting it toward her face in an attempt to hide her grin behind the coffee. It’s a precious sight, and Eugene is all too aware of how his heart picks up speed at the mere thought that  _ he’s  _ the one who  made her blush.

He clears his throat, tapping the book in her hands. “So what are you reading?”

“Oh! It’s called The Metaphysics of Morals by Immanuel Kant.”

“Ah," he blinks, his stare comically blank. "So basically just your average morning paper, then.”

She smirks, gently bumping her shoulder against his. “I may not have finished getting my degree on earth, but since I’m teaching  _ you _ , I figured it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on a few things.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” He snaps his fingers in excitement, and  _ god _ , when did he become the nerd here? “I know you said we weren’t gonna cover it until next week, but last night I couldn’t sleep, so I started reading that book on utilitarianism you told me about.”

  
Rapunzel pauses with the coffee lifted halfway to her lips, her brows raising. “Wow, I’m… actually impressed. Look at you, taking initiative!” 

“You know blondie, you might as well come right out and admit it--” Eugene teases as he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms above his head and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m your favorite student.”

She laughs, and he swears the sound of it makes him believe more and more in this whole 'heaven' thing. “Eugene, you’re my only student.”

“I’m still your favorite, aren’t I?”

Rapunzel rolls her eyes, her lips quirking up in a smile despite herself. With an exaggerated sigh and a glint of mischief in her eye, she reaches over and thumbs away a bit of stray toothpaste from the corner of his mouth that he hadn't realized he missed. 

“Well... I _suppose_ if I have to stare at one face for the rest of eternity, at least it’s one as pretty as yours.”

Eugene sits up abruptly, his face lighting up in absolute delight, at that. “Are you _ flirting _ with me, sunshine?”

“You finally noticed, huh?” She quips back, and though she frames it as a joke, the flush of her cheeks doesn’t escape Eugene’s notice. Nor does it escape his notice how her hand has still yet to move from his face, her thumb lingering just beside his lips, her fingertips lightly brushing across his jaw as she holds his gaze. 

“A teacher and her student,” he teases, his voice lowering as he dares to move further into her space. “How _ scandalous. _ You sure there’s not any rules against that in the Good Place?”

“Since when do  _ you _ care about rules?” Rapunzel breathes, drifting even closer yet. He can see her freckles so much better when they’re this close-- the way they scatter across her nose, her cheeks, beneath her eyelashes. The way her oversized shirt allows him to see the little constellations they form atop her shoulders, a few stray ones just under collarbone. Eugene’s pretty sure he could spend the rest of eternity discovering each and every one of her freckles, and he’d never grow tired.

“I don’t,” he admits, keeping his eyes locked on her own. “But I care about you.” 

Her breath hitches, the sound like music to his ears. Rapunzel’s gaze fall to his lips, her hand wandering from his jaw to the nape of his neck, her fingers weaving their way up into his hair. 

In the past, he might’ve used her interest as a chance to fall into the role of casanova, with intentionally smoldering gazes and empty words that would be sure to make any partner swoon. But in the past, he could never picture himself with another person for longer than one night, let alone did he imagine spending an eternity counting their _freckles._

And so instead, Eugene stills, waiting for her to make the next move. Vulnerability is new to him, but for Rapunzel, it is something he will gladly offer-- dropping all pretense and allowing her to find whatever she seems to be searching for in his eyes. 

Rapunzel leans toward him, ever-so slowly, and he follows her lead, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. His eyes fall shut, the warmth of her breath tickling his face as she lets out a contented sigh. Finally,  _ blessedly _ , he feels the featherlight touch of her lips, soft against his just as they begin to meet—

  
  


Without warning, the ground shakes violently beneath them, and she jumps back, startling them both out of the moment. Their coffee splatters across the couch as the two of them brace themselves against the sudden shifting of the ground. Eugene can hear something shatter in the kitchen, but his only focus is on Rapunzel and her safety.

After a moment, though, the tremors weaken, and then stop nearly as quickly as they began. They both sit there, frozen in shock for several long moments. The unexpected quake was strange, to say the least-- but then again, ‘strange’ seems to be par for the course for Eugene during these past few months.

As they stand in the quiet aftermath, the fact they just had an earthquake doesn't alarm Eugene _nearly_ as much as the expression he finds on Rapunzel’s face. Her eyes are blown wide as she continues to stare into empty space, her chest heaving with heavy, quickened breaths. 

  
“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand reaching up to cup her face-- only for her to flinch away from his touch. 

“I’m sorry,” Rapunzel blurts out, fiddling with her hands anxiously and averting her eyes. “I’m _ so _ sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it was  _ selfish _ of me to think--” 

“Whoa, slow down-- what are you talking about?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

Eugene can see she’s pulled back-- where there was warmth and openness in her eyes mere moments ago, there is now a nervousness, a sadness-- a  _ distance _ .

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to elaborate, as both his head and heart struggle to catch up with the sudden shift in mood. 

“This neighborhood has reacted every time you’ve done something that isn’t supposed to happen in the Good Place, right?” She continues, and he can hear the rising panic in her voice, a stinging reminder that his very presence is keeping her from finding the peace the afterlife is supposed to bring. “The sinkhole opening between houses when you and Cassandra fought, the trash falling from the sky when you skipped out on cleaning up. I just tried to kiss you, and there was an  _ earthquake-- _ “

He chuckles, but it’s a humorless, nervous sound. “I still don’t see how  _ kissing  _ could--”

“Eugene,” she interrupts in a hushed tone, and there is a waver in her voice that makes his chest ache. “We both know we’re not real soulmates. And I think… maybe the neighborhood realizes it, too.” 

“We don’t know that,” he whispers back, hating how very desperate he sounds. Eugene realizes, not-so deep down, that he  _ is  _ at the root of all the neighborhood’s problems, knows that she’s  _ right. _ He just isn’t ready to accept what that means. He isn’t ready to lose what had barely even begun.

But Rapunzel’s eyes carry a calm sort of sorrow, as if she’s already resigned herself to the unfortunate truth of it all. “If a sinkhole opened up just because of a disagreement, imagine what would happen if two people who weren’t universe-approved soulmates tried to get together.”

Eugene swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his breath backs up in his lungs. He knows it, of course-- given his false identity, neither of them were under the impression that they were  _ actually _ soulmates. But there’s something about hearing her say the words outright that feels like a blow to the gut. Perhaps a small part of him-- the same part of him chasing the fool’s errand of truly earning his spot in the Good Place-- had hoped that if he was worthy enough, he could earn his place as her soulmate, too. 

Perhaps, for someone who was meant to be eternally damned, he’s been chasing one too many fantasies.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he laughs a bit breathlessly, allowing his expression to harden, attempting to slip back into his apathetic persona he spent so many years perfecting. “Let’s just-- forget it ever happened.”

“I’m so  _ sorry,  _ Eugene,” Rapunzel’s eyes fill with unshed tears, her arms curling around herself meekly. “I’m supposed to be  _ helping _ you, and I just-- I keep making things worse.” 

Not for the first time, Eugene notices the way she tries to make herself look smaller, taking the blame for things that aren’t her fault. He knows enough about her life on Earth to know it’s likely a result of her upbringing, and his own feelings of hurt aside, he cannot  _ stand _ to see her berate herself.

_" Hey, _ Rapunzel, no,” and as quickly as he puts his walls up, he tears them back down, both his voice and eyes softening in an attempt to soothe her. “You have  nothing to apologize for. I mean, you’re spending your time in  _ paradise _ trying to save me from being sent to the Bad Place. You don’t have to apologize because you’re not willing to put the whole _ universe _ at risk just to kiss me.”

She looks up at him with glistening eyes that are all-too open, all-too honest, all-too _soft_ for his heart to take.

“I would’ve liked to, though.” She whispers it like a secret, like if she says it quietly enough, then perhaps the universe itself won’t hear. 

Eugene forces himself to smile, though it’s a bittersweet, mournful thing. He’s struck with a deep, aching  _ longing _ in his chest unlike anything he’s felt before, as he realizes that any happiness he could find with her will always linger just out of his reach. He carefully thumbs away a stray tear from her cheek, grateful that he can at least do _that_ much without damning them any further. 

“Yeah. Me too, sunshine.”

  
  


In another life, Eugene thinks, they could’ve been good together. He would’ve kept her company when she’d pull all-nighters to study, would’ve helped her pursue her dreams of becoming a professor of moral philosophy. He would’ve counted every freckle, would’ve cherished every kiss. He would’ve been a better person for knowing her, and maybe even made it to the Good Place on his own. 

In another life, he thinks, they could’ve built something together. But he met her in death, and it is nothing if not final.

  



End file.
